


Rain

by Avendya



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-21
Updated: 2008-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-02 02:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avendya/pseuds/Avendya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lily and James are in hiding, Sirius is at war with the world, and Remus - Remus waits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

Remus doesn’t mind the rain. It’s comforting, in a way – reminds him of lazy days spent poring over books, still young enough to believe that life had a happy ending.

It’s the sunny days that bother him – the ones that remind him of days by the lake, Peter laughing and James glancing over at Lily too many times, and Sirius trying as hard as he could to pull Remus away from his book. Sirius was good at it, too – the feel of Sirius’ breath against his neck, the infectious smile, the feeling that this was the future, stretching out before him like an infinite series of spring days.

He almost smiles, remembering, and then remembers something else – the harshness of Sirius’ voice, the look of madness in his eyes when he accused Remus of spying for Voldemort (spitting out the name, as if it was contaminated). He’d said that he should have known, that Remus was never quite human, always dark at the core and just waiting for a chance to betray his friends. No wonder Dumbledore never asked you to be a part of the Order, he’d said, and Remus had bitten his tongue and didn’t try to explain. It wasn’t worth it – Sirius Black had no patience with shades of grey. He left the flat without a word, leaving his books and his coat and one of his favorite sweaters. They’d been delivered to his door by Muggle post a few days later, and he knew it was over.

He’d seen Sirius break off contact before. It hadn’t been pretty – sentences that hung in the air, refusing to even speak of the people he’d once loved, stacks of unanswered letters from Regulus, idly burning pictures in the common room fireplace. It would not go better for him. Lily might have listened, or even James, but they were gone now, in hiding, and perhaps they were better off without him. Let them keep Sirius, the avenger, and Peter, who worshipped them, and Harry. That was enough, and they would be safe.

Remus still carries out his duties, flurries of letters to isolated werewolves throughout Britain, trying to explain why they shouldn’t rebel, overthrow the reign that that classified them as beasts. He knew it was useless. They were catalogued, not allowed to hold jobs or marry or even go to school. Voldemort promised them equality, a place in his new world, just as valued as everyone else. How could he explain that the only ones valued in Voldemort’s eyes were purebloods? No half-breeds, no part-humans, just the Blacks and the Lestranges and the Malfoys of the world. (And they had no werewolves – at least, none that they would admit to.)

He knows that this strange equilibrium will end soon, that he will be forced to go into the field, like Sirius, or into hiding, like James and Lily. He can’t just wait the war out, holed up a tiny flat, watching rain drip down the dirty windowpanes. Someday, the war will come to him.

He watches the rain, and waits for the end.


End file.
